


boom, boom

by douchechill



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Incest, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/douchechill/pseuds/douchechill
Summary: It shouldn’t take fucking for trust to happen, but their bodies speak better than their mouths.





	boom, boom

The first time it happened, Gob was drunk at Michael’s bedroom door, which was probably the only reason it happened in the first place. Michael pushed his hands away not only once, but twice, his taller brother’s body half-leaning against his and keeping him backed into the wall.

“I’m not Eve.”  


Gob looked him straight in the eye.

“I don’t _want_  Eve.”  


And that time, Michael’s hands stopped, and Gob’s fingers undid the clasp of his pants.

Michael fit nicely against the wall. He was all soft and simple in Gob’s arms, a fucking pudge of a nerd, curled against his front with his hands clenched tightly in the Hawaiian-print shirt still gracing Gob’s shoulders. Even in his intoxicated state, Gob couldn’t help but compare him to Eve, the height and weight surprisingly similar, but the desperate way his baby brother clung to him, the way he could feel his muscles shaking against his in exertion, the knobbiness of the knees pressed against his sides…

Those were all very different.

He’d grinned through his alcoholic daze.

And Michael’s fingers had moved up to tighten in the curls of his hair.

Michael didn’t talk to him for a week after that. Every time they’d run into each other he’d clam up, face going red before he’d duck down and speed off in shame.

Shame that he’d let something like that happen.

Shame that he’d let Gob see him like _that_.

Gob just thought it was rather amusing.

* * *

The second time it happened, _Michael_ was drunk. He showed up at Gob’s door fresh from a week at university, Gob himself staring at him befuddled before he pushed up on his toes, reaching around the taller boy’s neck and pulling him down until their mouths met.

Gob almost fell over in surprise, but as soon as he got his bearings, his lips widened in a grin, his hands found his little brother’s waist, and he quite gladly led him inside into his bedroom.

Michael pushed him back on the bed, hands not nearly as agile as Gob’s had been in his drunken state, but finding the front of Gob’s pants all the same. He didn’t even bother pushing them down all the way, already having enough trouble, so he moved on to his own, kicking them off and almost falling over in the process.

Gob grinned, making himself comfortable in the messy, unmade sheets while Michael’s bare legs straddled his pelvis. He brought his hands up to trace between them, finding the other boy’s hips and helping to guide him back onto the obvious evidence of his own arousal. Michael’s back arched wonderfully, sounds Gob had never been privy to choked out of the back of his throat. He even lasted a decent amount of time completely on his own, hands clenched in the sheets to Gob’s either side as his hips slid up and down, up and down, but it eventually became obvious by the way his legs were shaking and his lungs were gasping that he was running out of steam, so Gob smirked, thrusting upwards to match the earlier rhythm and enjoying the odd angle it caused in Michael’s upper body.

“Am I better than Tracey?”

Michael’s eyes opened wide, Gob’s hand having grabbed him between the legs and now tracing tantalising circles across the tip with his thumb. The spasm came quickly after that, almost visibly running up his spine as he bent backwards, high-pitched gasp torn from his throat.

Once it had worn off, though, the alcohol took its effect more fully and he came down with a slump on Gob’s chest, hair sticking to his forehead in clumps and muscles lax with fatigue. They stayed there like that for a while. Gob assumed the other boy was merely resting, but after about five minutes and three wispy yet obvious snores later, he came to the realisation that Michael had actually fallen asleep.

And so he sighed to himself–a little burst of air as he collected Michael beneath the armpits and dragged him up the bed so he’d at least be under the covers.

Michael looked like a tossed ragdoll, all limp against the pillow like that, one hand splayed back on the sheets. Gob went ahead and rid himself of the rest of his own clothes before crawling over, pulling the smaller boy in against his chest and pushing his nose against the back of his head. Michael smelled like beer and sweat and California air.

Gob decided he could keep him until his brother inevitably broke into a panic.

* * *

The next morning, Michael didn’t talk much. He was surprisingly calm when he woke up, probably because the other Bluths were out of the house, walking into the kitchen still a bit dazed and just barely having his pants on his hips to find Gob fiddling uselessly with the toaster. After a couple awkward minutes of silence, Gob told him to go take a shower, supposing the same routine all his girlfriends had ought to do the trick.

Which Michael did.

After that, Gob told him they should have some toast together. So he did that too.

They sat at the small table in the kitchen. And Michael’s head stayed halfway buried inside a glass of orange juice and water Gob poured for him (because there wasn’t enough juice to fill the glass, since Gob drank most of it). They didn’t talk.

After that, Gob couldn’t really think of any way to get him to stay longer, so he found himself following Michael to the front door, Michael sliding his shoes on and smoothing the front of his already-smoothed shirt.

“So. I’ll see you winter break.”

Michael nodded in response. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched.

Michael stepped forward, one hand held out as if offering something.

Gob looked at him in confusion, but positioned his hand under the other’s all the same.

Michael dropped a key into it.

“In case you want to, uh… visit. At school.”

Gob’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

And then the silence returned.

Michael made his way out the door, a piece of burnt toast in one hand. Gob watched him a moment, then shut it with a click, resting his back immediately against it with his eyes a little wide and the key in a firmly closed hand against his chest.

The tiniest of smiles grew in the center of his face.

He wound the key carefully in the keyring with the keys to his Camaro, then wandered off down the hall.


End file.
